


In Finding the Prince

by turtleduckanarchy



Category: Shoujo Kakumei Utena | Revolutionary Girl Utena
Genre: F/F, Ten Years Later, anthy's search for utena, i hate him, i just want anthy and utena to be happy, it is done, mentions akio a little but not too much because he's a dick, so they will be now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 17:04:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12462114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turtleduckanarchy/pseuds/turtleduckanarchy
Summary: Days, weeks, months, years.  The irrelevancy of measured time stood no match against a witch who had once been a princess in her search for her prince.Did you know?  Did you know?Time means nothing, nothing at all.





	In Finding the Prince

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written anything for Revolutionary Girl Utena before, but I just love it so much that eventually I had to. Welcome the eventually. Anyways, this is it. It's all I've really got right now, but I might write another later on.

She has spent countless days, nights, weeks, perhaps even years searching the globe with a fine comb, never stopping.  She started near where they had met, the church that had brought their fates together, intertwined for eternity as they danced among strangers, children lost in the darkness of night and the pain of loss.  It was a funeral, she remembers, not hers certainly, as she had not yet been confronted by death’s cold grip.  She had not seen the face of the monster in a lapse of time that felt like eons, though in truth, she lacked knowledge of how long she had been travelling.

Had it already been years?  She hadn’t the slightest idea.  The only thing she was sure of was her objective, finding her prince who had fallen from glory on the day of revolution.  And yet, despite her best efforts—despite the fact that she had spent fortunes to find the prince, travelling the world in hope—she could not find a trace of her love.  The date, the time, it was all irrelevant in the face of her determination to find the prince.  A lost prince, impossibly alive, against all odds, somewhere in the world, and it was her responsibility to find the prince, bringing to light the hope that she had.

She would never cease her search, just as she would never exhaust the funds at her fingertips.  The hundreds of thousands of dollars, possibly even millions she had spent during her voyage.  It hardly mattered the expenses, as she doubted her brother would ever notice the dent she had made into his bank account.  He would, indubitably, be in despair over her departure, too much so to pay any attention to any absence of money—let alone the absence of his credit card that she swiped whenever she needed to do so.  A man she despised enough to leave his world of never ending miracles, a man she despised enough to steal his life’s meaning, rid his world of magic.  It hardly mattered if she took his money along with it, better that he never know that his money was slowly depleting, somewhat faster than it had in the past.

It was all for a worthwhile cause, was it not?  The money would not be wasted, at least not in her mind.  It was to find the prince, _her_ prince. 

 

The world spun when she saw her reflection.  Miraculously (though she knew there were no such things as miracles in the world outside of her brother’s), her dressed had remained in fair condition, despite the constant travelling.  Busses and planes and taxis all blended together, and oftentimes, she would take the transportation at night, half-awake with her eyes barely open, fighting the urge to sleep, for fear that she would miss something of standing. 

Had her skin always been dark as it was?  Logic said yes, of course it was, she was after all from India, having left as a child.  Her hair, was it always so coarse?  Rationality confirmed her fear that it was not.  She had lost sight of herself in her quest, letting something like her hair—which had been soft in years past—become knotted, greasy, messy for the sake of nothing.

No.

It was for something.

It was all for something, lest the whole situation be for naught, an idea she refused to believe in.  This was all for something.  This was not a pointless trek.  Her brother’s words rang through her mind after this, coldly stating that her prince would be dead, as any soul would be after the subjected fate.  Destroyed would be a better word for anyone whose end was with such a destiny, and she was reminded that it would have been hers.

For the first time in what felt like forever, she stopped. 

She booked a hotel room, bought hair products to regain the shine that her hair had lost, purchased new clothes to replace her worn dress, a suitcase to carry her belongings.  She slept in a bed, not a plane, not a bus, not a train.  A bed.  It was hardly comfortable, as she had grown accustomed to sleeping in a bus, passed out after hours of trying to stay awake.  Or a plane, with someone snoring loudly next to her.  In the hotel room, there was only silence.

 

She dreamt of monsters.

She dreamt of her prince, taking her hand, kissing it softly, smiling at her sorrowfully, knowing finally of the burden she had been carrying, taking it away from her, making her watch the suffering play out on another.  Not just any other.  Her prince took it and bore it without complaint, smiling as she once did when she took the fate for her brother.  Swords piercing every inch of flesh, exposed or not.

If she thought of it long enough, she could feel them stabbing her too.

She dreamt of the time she met her prince.  A little girl crying out in pain, never again wanting to live another day while her brother charmed a stranger who had lost their parents.  Nobility of the rose, given the ring that belonged to her brother, given to a child for no reason other than to dry their tears.  However, when her prince saw her…she could remember it all, plain as day—if she tried.

The vow.

A vow taken on by a mere child to save her from the accursed fate she had borne for her brother’s sake.  A child wearing a ring too big, attending a funeral too bleak, watching a suffering too painful for comprehension.  The ring.  The ring was the cause of it all.  Had her brother never handed out that ring, there would be no search, no need to comb the world for the prince.

A prince not born out of lineage but of pure determination.  Her brother’s influence gone awry.  He had hoped for a new princess to seduce, someone new to brighten his pathetic cycle of misery, but alas, he merely inspire a young girl with freshly dead parents to become a prince herself, vowing to save the witch that was his little sister. 

The sword she stabbed the prince in the heart with.  She could feel its hilt in her hand still, hear the soft sound the prince made in pain as the blade tore through flesh.  She could remember the prince rushing to save her, despite the betrayal. 

 

It was when she took note of the date that her heart seemed to finally shatter.  Ten years.  Ten years of searching, and she had gotten nowhere. 

They were to have tea, untainted by poison, and cookies, also lacking poison.  It had been a promise.  And yet.

Nothing.

No sign. 

She had searched every single continent on the face of the planet.  North America, South America, Europe, Asia, Africa, Australia, even venturing the ungodly cold Antarctica, all out of hope for some sort of sign.  A glimmer of the prince, smiling despite the fact that they had not seen each other in ten years.

While it was saddening, it was also liberating.  Ten years without the control of her brother, and she still had access to his wealth, still without a care when it came to money. 

Part of her wondered if it was because she had decided to stop and take in the cities she journeyed to instead of only searching.  Part of her wondered if this was her fate.  For every ticket she bought in attempt to find her prince, she would only get further and further away until there was no chance of their rendezvous ever occurring.  Another part of her insisted that her prince would never be happy with the malnourished and filthy state she had allowed herself to fall into and that it was better she be healthy and still search for another ten years than be close to death and find her prince in five years.

“This seat isn’t taken, is it?” a gentle voice asked, pulling her out of her reverie.  A hand on the chair in question caused her to look up. 

“Of course not,” she said slowly, a smile crossing her face.

Her prince, worse for wear, stood in front of her, blue eyes gleaming like the sky on a clear day.  Tattered red pants with holes in the knees, a button-up shirt that surely was white once upon a time, and a black jacket with a single white rose pinned to the lapel. 

“I’m glad.”

“As am I.”  She took the hand of her prince.  A prince who refused to see her as a witch, but as a princess.

“You look beautiful,” the prince breathed, her voice as cheerful as it was the last day they spent together.

“You look as though you were hit by a car, Miss Utena.”

“I rather feel like it.”

“I’d rather you just looked it, not felt it.”

“Tea was our plan, right?  Without Canterella, please.”

“I would have it no other way.”

**Author's Note:**

> That's all I've got, so I hope it was enjoyable.


End file.
